


The Devil's Handshake

by habenaria_radiata



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Glove Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Hotsuweek 2018, M/M, PWP, Post-Triangulum Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/pseuds/habenaria_radiata
Summary: His fingers slid lower, following the outside of Yamato's hand and coming to rest against the subtle hill of his wrist bone. He'd told Yamato long ago that he had air hands. Long, beautiful, tapered air hands, with shallow lines scored along his palm. Hibiki flipped his own hand over and traced the long, unbroken line that erupted from near the bottom of his life line. Only Yamato's left hand had a fate line. Hibiki had never actually believed in palm reading, but he still thought that was interesting.Gently, he tipped forward, closed his eyes, and let his lips touch the center of Yamato's palm.





	The Devil's Handshake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticoyuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticoyuu/gifts).



> HAPPY HOTSUWEEK 2018
> 
> I promised Geck this fic months ago and finally got around to it to start our Hotsuweek off with a bang. Literally. Hohoho.
> 
> If you want to participate in Hotsuweek, a week celebrating Yamato Hotsuin and his and Hibiki's birthdays, please feel free! We decided to make this a thing like three weeks ago, which did not feel like adequate time to advertise. But this is a big bandwagon and there's more than enough room for you to jump on it if you'd like! For now, please enjoy this ridiculous porn.

* * *

 

  
    "Yamato."  
  
    Two of his fingertips pinched shut around a folded sliver of soaked fabric, and Hibiki drew his shirt away from his skin with distaste on his face and in the gnarled shape of his hand. Every single centimeter of him pulsed with heat. The usual spring in his hair had long since deflated, his curls hanging limply in his face, sticking to his temples and the back of his neck. Maybe it was disrespectful to strip down in the Hotsuin ancestral estate, but his ability to give a damn was draining out of him as rapidly as his own sweat.  
  
    He peeled his cheek off the glossy surface of the kotatsu and rolled his face up to see that Yamato's pen had stilled, and he was staring at him with expectation on his face. Hibiki huffed and let his eyes slip shut. Eugh, even his eyelids felt sticky. "I am literally dying."  
  
    Yamato acknowledged him with a short noise of amusement and looked away, his pen gliding in another fluid line. "Aren't we all? Each second we spend on this earth brings us ever closer to our deaths."  
  
    It took an insane amount of effort to raise his head up all the way, but he did it for the sake of shooting Yamato a half-hearted glare that he pointedly ignored. "Okay, well, now I'm hot _and_ depressed, thanks. I can't believe your ginormous manor doesn't have an air-con unit."  
  
    Once again, his pen went still, and Yamato's mouth drew into a mild frown. "Hibiki, this house is older than some prefectures. I can't believe you expected it to have one."  
  
    That was true enough. Yamato had mentioned that this place was ancient before his grandparents were even thought of, but it had never occurred to Hibiki that that would mean the inside of it would swelter like the devil's own Popin' Cookin'. He sighed and dropped his chin down onto his folded arms. "I just want you to know that I sorely regret suggesting we visit now instead of winter."  
  
    "Do you?" Yamato laughed and finished marking one of the pages with a sharp flick of his hand. "In that case, I suspect that you would complain about it being cold instead."  
  
    Hibiki was silent a moment. "It's possible," he finally conceded. Yamato knew him entirely too well.  
  
    He dropped his head against the kotatsu just in time for a chilly blast of air to course through his damp hair. The fan lingered on him a few seconds, allowing him a brief moment of respite and a chance to indulge in the shivers that zipped down along the length of his spine. But then it turned away from him, inching back towards Yamato, and Hibiki frowned at it as it stirred his pale hair.  
  
    "Seriously, it must be like fifty degrees, Yamato," he groaned. "I'm going to melt. You're never gonna see me again and you're not even gonna kiss me first."  
  
    Yamato scoffed at him, and he picked his phone up and flipped it open with his thumb. "It's thirty-two degrees. You are a drama queen."  
  
    The tension that'd sprung up between Hibiki's shoulder blades eased. Part of him regretted teaching Yamato what a drama queen was, now that he'd come to deploy it with gleeful enthusiasm, but the rest of him was too busy being charmed. He tittered behind his fingertips and nodded towards Yamato's familiar black phone. "I thought you were going to tell me the temperature it would take for humans to melt." Yamato threw him a weird look, and Hibiki blinked back at him. "Please tell me you don't actually know the temperature it would take for a human to melt."  
  
    Yamato sniffed at him and scowled. "...A human would combust first, Hibiki. It is highly unlikely that you would melt at _any_ temperature."  
  
    "Oh my god." Hibiki snorted with laughter. His boyfriend was a walking fountain of the most alarming knowledge in all of Japan. Yamato wouldn't have the faintest idea what a Popin' Cookin' was, but he could almost certainly tell you how many newtons of force it would take to decapitate a grown man. It was inspiring, if a little terrifying. "Okay, okay. No more melting jokes."  
  
    He closed his eyes, and another hot sigh eased out of him as the fan came swinging back to blow across his face. It was wonderful. As if taking pity on him, it seemed to stay on him for even longer. A lot longer, in fact. He cracked one eye open to see that Yamato had reached over and pulled the plastic tab at the top to keep it trained on Hibiki. "But Yamato-"  
  
    "It is fine. I don't need it."  
  
    He certainly didn't look like he needed it. Hibiki sat up again, leaning on his elbows and peering over at his dedicated JP's Chief so hard at work. He didn't seem bothered by the heat in the least. In fact, the only indication he gave that the weather was even remotely disagreeable was that he'd shed his heavy JP's coat, and more of his pale skin was showing than just his face and three centimeters of his pretty neck. He'd left his ridiculous tie off, and his long sleeves were rolled up above his elbows.  
  
    But he was still wearing his white leather gloves. Yamato looked perfectly at peace there at the kotatsu, his legs folded neatly and the tendons in his forearm shifting subtly with each penstroke. He had the most beautiful hands Hibiki had ever seen in his life. And he looked to be happily oblivious to the resentful eye the hot summer sun cast over them and Yamato's old ass family manor that had no air conditioning.  
  
    Slowly, Hibiki sank forward until he could fold his arms flat against the kotatsu, and he watched Yamato write. He almost never had the opportunity to see it. Yamato vastly preferred his laptop, and he liked to request corrections on the reports he received by leaving scathing footnotes on the electronic copies he was sent. But Hibiki had put his foot down and asked that he not bring it, so Yamato had decided to spite him by physically printing every report he received that week and taking it to Osaka to criticize them by hand instead, writing ruthlessly stern notes in the margins like some sort of hot young potions professor.  
  
    Well, the joke was on Yamato. Hibiki loved to watch. His handwriting was surprisingly pretty. He'd expected military neatness out of him, all harsh lines like Yamato could write with the same digital precision of keyboard hiragana. But that was very much not the case. He wrote elegantly, even with those tight gloves that looked vacuum sealed to his hands.  
  
    Hibiki was kind of into it. He liked the faint squeaks of leather any time Yamato flexed his fingers. He loved the way the man would get irritated after doing nonstop sprints of notes and put his pen down to work his thumb beneath the hem and adjust them again. His fingers would spread wide, and he would patiently shift each one until the glove was comfortable to his satisfaction.  
  
    Another shiver stole down his back, and he scooted backwards and wet his lips. "Okay, I give up. How are you not bothered at all?"  
  
    Yamato's pale eyes darted from his paperwork up to Hibiki's face. "By the heat? Hibiki, really." His lips twisted into a smile, and he dropped his eyes right back down to a half-marked out report sitting on top of the stack. Without even looking at him, Yamato closed his hand over his phone and slid it over to him. Hibiki picked it up and flipped it open, then navigated to the summoning app.  
  
    He had equipped Ice Amp and Anti Fire. Hibiki scowled at the screen and snapped it shut again. "I don't even know why I ask you anymore."  
  
    "I had wondered that myself," Yamato commented.  
  
    Smart ass. Hibiki bit back a smile and put the phone down onto the kotatsu, and like Yamato had done, he slid it back towards him. But he stopped there, his hand remaining hovering on top of the plastic. Yamato still wasn't looking at him. He moved to retrieve his phone, but his fingers came to rest over Hibiki's instead. Only then did he look up, blinking in faint surprise.  
  
    Hibiki offered him a sweet smile and curled his hand, letting his knuckles bump against Yamato's fingers and slide in between them. He loved the feeling of his thumb skimming lightly across the leather. "I can't believe you're still wearing your gloves."  
  
    One of Yamato's sharp eyebrows quirked. "No?" Smoothly, he drew his hand back from Hibiki's and brought it up to his mouth. Hibiki's stomach twisted so hard it seemed to disappear, and he watched as Yamato's teeth closed over the thick seam along the tip of his middle finger. Slowly, he tugged it off, his pale hand coming into view. With his glove still dangling from between his teeth, Yamato grasped the hem and and let go of it, tossing it onto the kotatsu.  
  
    Hibiki stammered like a moron. "Uhm...th- that wasn't a criticism, or anything. I just...was surprised! That's all."  
  
    Yamato's other hand was already half-way to his lips, but he paused there and eyed Hibiki up and down. "Wasn't it? Is that a request to leave this one on, Hibiki?"  
  
    He didn't answer right away. Hibiki took Yamato's bared hand into his own and skated his fingertips along his soft, smooth skin. Yamato usually ran hot as a furnace, but to his enormous surprise, he felt cool to the touch. It was obviously the temporary amplification of his ice affinity, but Hibiki was still charmed and mystified by it. He'd never noticed a difference in his own skin when he swapped skills back and forth.  
  
    His fingers slid lower, following the outside of Yamato's hand and coming to rest against the subtle hill of his wrist bone. He'd told Yamato long ago that he had air hands. Long, beautiful, tapered air hands, with shallow lines scored along his palm. Hibiki flipped his own hand over and traced the long, unbroken line that erupted from near the bottom of his life line. Only Yamato's left hand had a fate line. Hibiki had never actually _believed_ in palm reading, but he still thought that was interesting.  
  
    Gently, he tipped forward, closed his eyes, and let his lips touch the center of Yamato's palm. "Yeah," he finally said. "I like the way they look on you." For a brief moment, Hibiki held still -- then he pitched forward and buried his face in Yamato's cool hand. "God, they feel so good."  
  
    Yamato sat back and snorted lightly, his fingers curling along Hibiki's chin. "You are pitiful."  
  
    "Nuh-uh," Hibiki mumbled against him. In a display of how very not pitiful he was, Hibiki dragged his nose along the inside of his palm in a lazy nuzzle. For whatever reason, Yamato let him. He held his arm still and set his pen down, watching Hibiki clutch at him and use him like a human cooling pad.  
  
    "Hibiki. Come here."  
  
    He'd known Yamato long enough to differentiate between Yamato's natural bossiness and an actual demand, and while his request was clearly the former, Hibiki still obeyed. He released the man's hand finally, pulling up off his cushion and crawling around it to sit beside him. The instant his bare legs came into view, Yamato reared back from him. "When did you take off your pants?"  
  
    He sounded so scandalized that Hibiki was almost offended. They'd been sleeping together for months, and Yamato was gonna act like seeing his cute bunny boxers was an affront to his delicate sensibilities? Please. Hibiki pulled a face at him and poked him in the nose. "You watched me do it! I said, 'Yamato, I'm dying, I'm gonna take off my pants', and then you rolled your eyes at me and said 'Do as you will, Hibiki', and then I did."  
  
    Yamato wore a thoughtful frown on his face, but the tight line of his spine did relax. "...I do not remember that at all," he confessed. "Nevertheless, I suppose it's for the best." He offered him nothing in the way of a warning. One powerful arm looped around Hibiki's waist, and he plucked him up off the floor and deposited him into his lap.  
  
    "Oh!" Oh, this was nice. Hibiki melted against his chest, figuratively, of course, since Yamato liked to shoot down his dramaticism with stone cold logic, and he tilted his head back against Yamato's shoulders. It took a bit of maneuvering to get his legs sprawled out beneath the kotatsu. He stretched out and got comfortable in Yamato's lap, and he was delighted to feel those icy fingers drag along the side of his hot neck and up through his hair. "That feels so nice."  
  
    "Good. Now be quiet and allow me to finish these reports." Yamato kissed his cheek and then redirected his attention to his paperwork. Despite his harsh words, he never left off touching Hibiki. His fingertips trailed almost idly along the shell of his ear, lower to glide along his jaw, the side of his neck, and then all the way down to his abdomen. The instant his hand slipped beneath his shirt, Hibiki shivered harshly and snuggled back into his chest.  
  
    It made it difficult to concentrate, but Hibiki's investment in Yamato's sexy hands was a force with which to be reckoned. He focused hard, watching Yamato's pen as he made neat, smooth lines of ink to indicate lines he wanted changed or details he felt were lacking.  
  
    Or when he was simply unhappy with the contents in general. Hibiki watched in growing amusement as Yamato underlined a word so savagely that he almost tore a line through the paper, and he wrote in the margin, 'Outside of a direct quote, the word 'dickhat' has no place in a formal report'. He couldn't contain it. Hibiki giggled into his own hand and peeked up at him. "...I've never seen anyone write the word 'dickhat' so neatly before."  
  
    Yamato scowled at him and snapped his hand back up to tug at his ear. "Ow! Okay, fine, I'll keep my commentary to myself. Jeez."  
  
    "See that you do. Smart ass." Yamato let go of him, but his mercy proved to be short lived. He turned his head, and Hibiki nearly leaped straight from his lap as Yamato's teeth nipped the shell. "The longer you distract me, the longer you prevent me from finishing these reports. I told you I wouldn't be entertaining you until they were done."  
  
    Immediately, Hibiki jerked to look at the stack. He deflated hard, sagging between Yamato's thighs. The stack was still huge! "...Yes, sir."  
  
    He supposed he deserved that. It was true that Yamato had made his terms clear. Hibiki would be getting zero dick until he let Yamato do his job, even though they were supposed to be on vacation and celebrating the week they'd saved the world, _Yamato_.  
  
    At least Yamato was kind enough to go back to petting him. Hibiki's eyes slipped shut, and he sagged against his torso as the man's fingers drifted back and forth along the strip of skin between his wet shirt and the elastic band of his boxers. He really did have the best hands in the entire universe.  
  
    And god, did he ever know how to use them. No one ever expected it of him, but Yamato took exquisite care of his hands. His nails were neat and healthy, and they felt amazing coursing over his hip, or caressing the expanse of his chest when Yamato felt like getting back under his shirt. Hibiki did his level best to wrestle his nerves under control. To swallow the intense lust flooding the inside his mouth. But then Yamato's nails raked across his ribs and up higher over his nipple, and Hibiki was an absolute goner.  
  
    He jerked in his lap a second time and tipped his skull back against Yamato's shoulder, his lips falling open around a silent gasp. Yamato's hand went so still against him that a plaintive whine erupted from him before he could quash the urge to let it. Yamato elected not to comment. Instead, he pushed Hibiki's shirt up, baring his flushed chest and stroking his ribs yet again.  
  
    That he could still work like this was both wildly impressive and a little bit insulting to Hibiki. He forced his eyes open to see that Yamato was still writing patiently, his penmanship just as perfect and unhurried as if he weren't groping Hibiki's naked chest and bringing him dangerously close to arousal.  
  
    "Stone cold," he muttered.  
  
    Another shudder poured down his back as Yamato's lips brushed against his tender ear. "You've told me," he reminded him. Then he kissed him for good measure.  
  
    Hibiki shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on his own breathing. He could feel his boxers already growing tighter, but he ignored it as best he could and struggled to stay calm. His chest was held into place by Yamato's bent arm, but his weight was comforting more than it was restricting.  
  
    But he didn't let him stay that way for long. Gloved fingers pressed gently against the shell of his other ear, skating along the curve. His eyes snapped open, and he gripped at both Yamato's elbows. "What about your reports?" When he looked back down at the stack, it was to see that he last one was already marked all to hell, and the rest of them were face-down in a neat pile. "Oh." Maybe the stack was less huge than he thought it had been. ...Maybe he was a little bit of a drama queen.  
  
    "Oh," Yamato parroted, smiling against his ear. "I think I am insulted that you pay so little attention to me."  
  
    Hibiki made a strangled noise and jabbed him lightly with his elbow. "Jerk. I always pay attention to you." He thrust both his arms into the air and was pleased to feel Yamato grasp his shirt and pull it all the way off. He felt leagues better the instant that thick fabric was no longer sticking to his skin. "Eugh, thank you. Are you gonna entertain me now?"  
  
    "Have I not been?"  
  
    Honestly, he didn't feel like 'entertaining' was the word for it. Maybe 'ruthless teasing'. Or torture. But rather than voice any of that, Hibiki gasped as Yamato's lips touched the back of his neck. "Y- Yeah," he concedes. "But can I have more now?"  
  
    "So needy. You don't even have lubricant, Hibiki."  
  
    That showed what Yamato knew. Hibiki lit up and thrust his leg out, hooking his ankle over his pants and scooting them across the floor. When he was able to reach the waistband, he grasped it and pulled it into his lap to fish a bottle of lube from his pocket. "Tada."  
  
    "...You are unbelievable." Yamato snorted behind him and snatched the bottle from Hibiki's hand. "How is it that you only decide to be prepared when it comes to sexual matters?"  
  
    "Just thirsty, I guess." Hibiki didn't have the decency to be ashamed of himself. He rolled his hips up off Yamato's lap and squirmed out of his boxers. He'd been fucking hot and sweaty all day, so if he was going to suffer through that kind of torture, he wanted to at least have earned it. Sex with Yamato in this awful hotbox seemed like a really good start.  
  
    With a playful snap of his fingers, Hibiki flicked his boxers away and dropped back hard into Yamato's lap. It thrilled him to no end to know that he wasn't the only one interested in the proceedings. It was insanely gratifying to feel Yamato's arousal even through his slacks, the thick fabric stiff against the backs of his thighs and his ass.  
  
    He had no idea that being naked while someone else was dressed was some kind of weird thing for him. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just that it was Yamato and Yamato was sexy to him at all hours of the day, in all weather, both inclement and otherwise. He liked to watch him fill out boring work reports as much as he liked to watch him shower, or clip his nails because Hibiki fucked them up when he'd tried to do it as a sweet favor, or brush his hair, or tap his fingers impatiently when someone was saying something stupid to him, which was more often than Yamato would like.  
  
    God, Hibiki loved him so much it made his chest ache.  
  
    "Yamato," he breathed again, turning over on his knees and grabbing his face to kiss him. He loved the way Yamato's hair fell over the backs of his hands. It had gotten rather long in the time since they'd met, brushing against his collar bones now. He loved the sensation of his belt buckle beneath his fingers when he dropped his hands to start tugging it open. He loved the weight of his erection in his hand and the sharp exhale of breath when he tugged it out from beneath his fly.  
  
    He especially loved when Yamato flipped him back around and tugged him into his lap again, his bare ass flush against his cock and his legs spread across Yamato's knees. Damn, it felt so dirty. His ankles dug into the tatami, but the rest of him fell still. Just the sound of lube on skin made him fucking _squirm_ , even when Yamato tried to distract him with his gloved hand curling around Hibiki's arousal.  
  
    There was nothing on earth like the buttery smooth glide of leather along his shaft. Yamato was a quick study in all things; it came as no surprise to Hibiki that he immersed himself in learning his body as efficiently as he learned everything else. He knew exactly how Hibiki liked to be touched and he offered it with no prompting whatsoever.  
  
    When his bare hand slid back around to spread across his belly, Hibiki lifted his hips again, and he sank down over him hard and fast. It was nice to have gravity's assistance, but the assistance was, admittedly, a little more enthusiastic than he'd been prepared to handle. The pressure bearing against his insides was unreal, and the angle made it feel like the tip was sitting right up against his spine.  
  
    Hibiki gasped for air and bit his lip, writhing there in his lap until a soothing tug from Yamato made his insides explode in warmth. "Oh, fuck," he gasped. Both his glorious hands were on him and it was his favorite thing in the universe. The way Yamato pulled all four of his gloved fingertips up the underside of his cock made him want to die.  
  
    The feeling only intensified when Yamato let go of him. He swung the fan around, and another blast of cold air against his naked skin wracked Hibiki with the most intense shivers he'd ever experienced in his life. He groped behind him and tangled his fingers in Yamato's hair as if it were the only thing that could keep him from being swept away in a surge of his own lust.  
  
    He couldn't even think long enough to try moving over him. That constant, unrelenting pressure made him feel like a surge of lightning was rocking up and down the length of his back, and the smooth strokes of Yamato's hand ensured he was afforded no reprieve.  
  
    What was likely only minutes felt stretched into hours of agonizing bliss, until finally, such a shattered scream rattled out of him that they could probably hear him all the way to the family mausoleum. He'd have to leave them some kind of apology later, assuming they hadn't spun in their graves so hard their coffins turned to ash. He was pretty sure Yamato would never, ever have sex with him again if he said that out loud, and besides, his throat felt too raw to even try. His thighs were quaking hard as he tried to draw them shut, and he tilted up off Yamato's chest. "Fuck," he said again.  
  
    Hibiki did not get far. Yamato's gorgeous hands went punishingly tight around his hips, and he suddenly found himself thrown on top of Yamato's reports as the man barreled into him so hard he almost achieved a second boner and also a set of intense hip bruises.  
  
    He felt Yamato go slack behind him, his nose buried in the back of Hibiki's curly head. His hands went loose on him before he pet him awkwardly. "...I apologize. That was harder than I had intended."  
  
    "It's fine." Hibiki giggled back at him and bumped him playfully with his ass. As much as he could when Yamato was still buried inside him, anyway. Then he went pale, his eyes opening wide when he looked down at the kotatsu.  
  
    He had just come all over that last report.


End file.
